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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888402">Courting Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeLady/pseuds/EdgeLady'>EdgeLady</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Post-Coital Socioeconomic Commentary, Vaguely Monstrous Reaper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:01:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888402</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeLady/pseuds/EdgeLady</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a leader must deal with more mundane issues. Akande Ogundimu relishes the fight. Thrives on it. But he especially enjoys what comes after. </p><p>Written for AkanDay, Feb 24 2020.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AkanDay 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Courting Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Akande has faced death before.</p><p>The thing about death is that there’s no point in fearing it. Death is inevitable and that’s a fact of human life. But until the final day when a person must fall, then he (or she. Or they) should endeavor to be the best and strongest version of himself that he can be. The real terror is failing in that regard. Of dying before one has reached the pinnacle of oneself.</p><p>Rather than fear it, Akande Ogundimu uses death as a tool of sorts. It tends to be a wonderful motivator for those desperately wishing to avoid it. And for those that make the wrong choices, then death serves as an easy enough way to remove people that insist on blocking progress.</p><p>Or just people that piss him off.</p><p>Like the sniveling worm that stands before him now. He’s a contractor. Talon pays plenty of contractors all over the world to do mundane tasks, such as gun running. But the problem with contractors is that it’s just so goddamn <em>hard</em> to find good help these days. Sometimes they become too dangerous, garner too much attention from authorities, or become too greedy in their demands.</p><p>Akande does not normally deal with such banal matters. He leads a powerful organization and his goals are lofty, not to mention he’s busy herding cats in the upper echelons of Talon. He has better things to do than bash a few heads in. He has people who can do that sort of thing. He has people who can do that sort of thing for his people, for fuck’s sake.</p><p>And yet this wretch had sufficiently irritated Akande enough to warrant a more personal touch. This is why on a muggy evening in June, he’s standing on the docks of the Port of San Juan, staring unblinkingly at the white man wearing a ridiculous hat. In the criminal underworld, he’s known simply as Jasper, a smuggler of no small notoriety. But thanks to a certain hacker, Akande knows a lot more about ‘Jasper.’</p><p>“We had a deal,” Akande says calmly.</p><p>“Yes, well, circumstances being what they are, I am forced to change our deal, Mr. Ogundimu.” He butchers Akande’s name.</p><p>Akande keeps his face neutral and stern, not even so much as twitching. Jasper, whose back is to the ocean (presumably so that no one can sneak up on him), takes a long drag of his cigarette. There’s a warm salty breeze that carries the stench of fish, and Akande can hear the waves crashing against the concrete walls of the docks. It’s dark and behind him are rows upon rows upon rows of shipping crates. Out in the water he can see the shadow of a massive cargo ship.</p><p>This is an excellent place for him to get ambushed, especially since Puerto Rico isn’t Talon territory. It’s controlled by the local mafia, and one family in particular controls the docks. Talon has done business with them since before Akande was even part of Talon leadership. And the mafia does business with Jasper, an American arms dealer of no small renown. Therefore, Talon uses Jasper as well.<br/>
<br/>
This is why the annoying American is still alive, despite the fact that Akande has a deep desire to right hook him into the ocean. He’s not even wearing the infamous Doomfist gauntlet; he doesn’t openly flaunt it in front of business contacts, unless he wants to throw his weight around. He’s in a light grey business suit, and he’s wearing his regular prosthetic arm. He feels hot, like he has way too much clothes on. It’s not that he’s against wearing the suit, but between the muggy evening and the fact that he is itching for a fight, it feels like the fabric is grating irritably against his skin. His prosthetic hand closes in a fist and then reopens. Jasper knows he’s safe, however, because he’s under La Familia’s protection here.</p><p>For the time being, at any rate.</p><p>It’s only been a couple of seconds since Jasper mispronounced his name, but they are both distracted briefly at the distant sound of a motorcycle engine roaring its way down the road leading to the port. At this time of night, the shipping docks are quiet, so the approach of a vehicle is loud and noticeable. There’s a subtle shift in body language as Jasper adjusts his feet as if preparing himself to bolt. Akande is aware of movement around them, too… of the shifting of men coming out from around nearby shipping crates, edging closer. He’d been aware of Jasper’s crew before, and he’d already determined how many there were, since the moment he’d stepped out of the black limo parked much farther back from the docks, attended by a silent omnic driver. Still, when the thugs move closer, Akande does a quick mental count again.</p><p>Seventeen of them. Overkill for just protection, so doubtlessly they had also been working on loading that nearby ship whose silhouette stands out in the moonlit night.</p><p>Akande isn’t worried.</p><p>“You expecting someone?” Jasper asks, frowning.</p><p>“My associate,” Akande responds calmly. “Returning from another business meeting. He’s alone.”</p><p>Jasper hums thoughtfully and takes another drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke out easily and not bothering to turn his head away. The cloud hangs between them for a few seconds before the ocean breeze sweeps it away.</p><p>The corner of Akande’s lips turn down. “Now, as we were discussing… we had a deal. And you are choosing to renege on that deal. Your reputation precedes you the world over, Mr. Jasper. It would be a shame to mar that reputation.” His dark brows lift slightly.</p><p>The white man raises his hands. “Whoa. Let’s not be too hasty. I’m not reneging on anything. The cargo is intact, it’s here.” He waves a hand vaguely in the direction of the ship. “But, as I am sure you aware, the cost of doing business is always increasing. I simply want to renegotiate our contract. I’m sure you are a reasonable man, Mr. Ogundimu.”</p><p>His eyebrow twitches at the different but still <em>wrong </em>pronunciation of his name. “What I am aware of is that we have already paid half for this shipment. If you want the other half, we expect it to get where it needs to go.”</p><p>“Well, see, it’s becoming more expensive to bribe officials in all of my ports of call,” Jasper responds. “So, I want the ‘other half’ now, and then, I want another third when the shipment gets to its final destination.”</p><p>Akande laughs.</p><p>Whatever response Jasper expected, amusement wasn’t it. He looks surprised, at first, and then disconcerted. He shifts his weight again as the hoverbike rumbles closer. But then Jasper smiles. “No big deal, right?” he says. He laughs along with Akande. “Just the cost of doing business, right?”</p><p>Akande stops laughing and turns his back on the man, taking a few steps away as the hoverbike comes into view. Its rider is hunched forward, long black coat streaming behind him. The bike slows down just as it passes the limo and comes to a stop just within the nervous circle of Jasper’s men. Those men actually back up a little, and Akande hears more than a few whispers of <em>El Segador</em>! From the corner of his eye, he even notices one man crossing himself.</p><p>Reaper doesn’t seem to notice. He swings a leather-clad leg over the bike to dismount, black coat sweeping dramatically around his legs as his white mask faces Akande and he takes heavy, measured steps toward him. Unhurried. Uncaring. He doesn’t need to look at the thugs around him to cause a stir. They know exactly who he is and they want to keep a respectful distance from him.</p><p>The fact that the idiots think Akande is any less dangerous is amusing, to say the least.</p><p>“I trust your meeting went well,” Akande says. It’s not a question.</p><p>The white mask nods once. “Good to go,” comes the curt reply in that guttural voice.</p><p>“Excellent.” Akande cranes his neck with a satisfying crack, then another in the other direction. “Kill him and let’s get going. We have better things to do.”</p><p>There’s no hesitation, no questioning. Reaper raises a shotgun that appears seemingly out of thin air. Jasper gives a shout.</p><p>Akande never looks back, because the circle of men is tightening around them again, guns and knives flashing in the moonlight. Akande doesn’t have a weapon, but he doesn’t need one. Even without his gauntlet, he’s more than happy to wade into this fight. That prickly feeling of being uncomfortable is gone as the blood rushes through him in excitement. He falls automatically into a combat pose, one leg forward and one leg back for optimal balance, his left hand up and his palm open towards the nearest opponent. His prosthetic hand is clenched into a fist. Seeing Akande without a weapon—an erroneous assumption—emboldens one of Jasper’s men to come at him with a machete.</p><p>Akande doesn’t need a weapon. His body <em>is</em> a weapon. The other man is obviously not expecting the speed at which Akande moves. He’s not expecting the left jab, or the right hook, and he’s definitely not expecting the incredible strength behind it. The machete clatters to the ground, unused, as the thug is punched back against the shipping crate behind him, knocking the wind out of him. Akande doesn’t chase him, because someone is pointing a gun at him. He slides forward, ducking low, delivering a ‘light’ punch to the gunner’s stomach that is more a feint than an actual hit but bears enough power to force the other man to gasp. The left uppercut connects Akande’s fist with the other man’s jaw, and there’s an audible crack as the man goes flying back. </p><p>There’s a breeze and a waft of black smoke accompanied by the faint scent of burning metal, and he glances back only long enough to ascertain that Reaper has intercepted other thugs that had rushed up behind Akande. There’s a stifled shriek, a sharp crack, and then a sudden silence, followed by a thud as the man drops lifelessly to the ground. Silver claws flash in the moonlight as Reaper fully phases back into his physical body and slices open another man’s throat. In a fluid motion the mercenary raises a gun and shoots at another fool.</p><p>Akande turns back to find five angry men coming at him, wielding knives, guns, and one man even had a chain he was swinging about. He grins as he makes a “come here” taunting motion with his fingers. He is ready.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In the end, he’s left standing in a circle of bodies, not all of them moving. As the battle haze fades, Akande hears a sort of hissing sound behind him, and he turns in time to see that Reaper is squatting beside a body, one clawed hand resting over the man’s chest. The body is desiccating right before Akande’s eyes, and slowly it shrinks, until nothing is left but a pile of grey ash that sits on the concrete ground for a moment before the ocean breeze stirs it and carries it away in a dancing cloud.<br/>
<br/>
Reaper lets out a sort of satisfied moan, a sound which causes a not entirely unexpected reaction in Akande. As if aware of the scrutiny, the white bone mask turns toward him, even as Reaper stands up slowly. Normally nothing can be seen through the dark slits of the mask, but currently there’s a red glow where the eyes would be. Akande gives him a bloody grin, absently wiping at his own face with a sleeve. At some point, some thug had managed to land a hit that had made Akande’s nose bloody, but he feels nothing but elation. Pain would come later. And that too would be welcome. But for the moment there is nothing but the blood pumping furiously through his body and the adrenaline high.<br/>
<br/>
Reaper turns away from him without an acknowledgement. He moves on to another body, this one still breathing. Not for long, Akande knows. He leaves death to his ministrations and instead goes to inspect Jasper’s still form. The American is very much dead in a puddle of his own blood. The bullet wounds in his chest are many, and the edges give off slight wisps of black smoke. There’s a shotgun discarded next to the body, and as Akande watches, it fades into black smoke itself and drifts back towards its owner, who is crouched over his latest meal. Akande kneels beside Jasper and searches in his pockets until he finds what he’s looking for: a box of cigarettes and a fancy silver lighter. These are not for him; Akande doesn’t care for cigarettes. He prefers cigars. But they will make a fine gift. He also takes Jasper’s phone. Sombra can dig into it later. He leaves everything else behind.</p><p>Akande stands, and for the first time feels the first pangs of pain from the fight. Good. He relishes it. He doesn’t bother to seek out its source. Instead, he heads back towards the limo, idly noticing that the hoverbike is gone. Reaper, however, is still here. Apparently two (or was it three?) bodies are enough to satisfy his nanites, because the mercenary is now next to the limo. He has his muscular arms crossed on his chest, and he’s leaning against the vehicle with one hip. The breeze, which has picked up somewhat, is making the black leather coat shift around his legs. The way Reaper is standing has the added effect of emphasizing his ridiculously delicious hourglass curves, especially that small waist and those impressive hips, which are accented by the multiple belts draped across them. Reaper’s eyes are still glowing red through the holes of his mask, and the way he is looking at Akande suggests the eerily still focus of a predator studying potential prey.</p><p>The thought sends a shiver of anticipation down Akande’s spine, even as he walks toward him. He does not fear death. And he certainly does not fear death’s agent.</p><p>“Looks like someone stole your bike,” he observes calmly.</p><p>Reaper lifts a hand, flicking the steel claws in a dismissive motion. “To be fair, it wasn’t my bike,” comes the guttural, casual reply.</p><p>Akande chuckles. “Need a ride?” He smirks, because that’s definitely a loaded question.</p><p>“Would be nice.” Reaper straightens; his movements are languid but deliberate.</p><p>He leans back fully against the limo’s door as Akande approaches. The moment the man is in range, Reaper reaches out, wrapping fingers around Akande’s red tie, gently tugging him closer. Akande does not resist. His cock twitches, appreciating the heat emanating from the other man, and the faint scent of blood intermingled with something smokey and pleasant.</p><p>But then pain blossoms fully in Akande’s abdomen, and he looks down to see Reaper’s other claws are digging into a bullet wound he hadn’t even realized was there. Akande grimaces, but doesn’t pull away or stop him. A moment later, the casing falls to the ground with a metallic tinkling sound. Reaper places a palm over the wound, and his eyes seem to glow more intensely. The wound itches and there’s a sort of sensation, like ants crawling over his skin, but then he removes his hand. The skin around the wound is red and puffy, but it’s closed, and Akande knows from previous experience that the puffiness will fade. It’s not the most pleasant ways of healing, but it does the job.</p><p>Reaper’s other hand is still on the red tie, and he straightens it now and tightens the knot. The slight pressure around his throat makes Akande’s pulse jump a bit.</p><p>“I hope you brought another suit,” Reaper says casually. “Doña Martínez would like the pleasure of your company for dinner tomorrow night.”</p><p>Akande’s dark brows shoot up. “You managed to get me a meeting with the Don herself?” Almost unheard of, as business was typically conducted through her lieutenants, for her own protection.</p><p>“Doña Valentina is very grateful for the information Talon provided on Jasper cheating La Familia and she would like to discuss further business opportunities.”</p><p>Akande grins, quite pleased. “Well done, my Reaper.”</p><p>“You can thank me later.” Reaper lets go of him and moves to the side so that he can open the limo’s door before he invites himself within.</p><p><em>Oh, I will,</em> Akande thinks to himself with a smirk. <em>Sooner rather than later.</em></p><p>He loves it when he’s around for Reaper’s feedings. It awakens a different kind of hunger entirely in the wraith.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Akande is discarding his ruined suit coat on the floor of the fancy hotel suite when black smoke wafts beneath the bedroom door and reforms itself into the shape of a man. Although the battle’s adrenaline rush has faded, it’s been replaced with delicious anticipation, and he’s already hard from the thought of what comes next.<br/>
<br/>
He turns with an appreciative smile as Reaper pushes back the hood of his coat, revealing thick waves of grey-streaked dark hair that flow past his broad shoulders. Next, the heavy black leather is sliding off his shoulders with a shrug, falling to the carpet with a metallic clank. The belts and bandolier are next, each piece of the Reaper’s outfit leaving a trail from the door to Akande. The mask is still on, for the moment, the eyes still glowing red, and there’s once more that sense of a predator evaluating its prey.</p><p>Akande chuckles. He’s no prey, but he enjoys the sense of being hunted. It gets the blood running once more, much like the fight, and he drops his silk tie to the floor, his shirt fully unbuttoned and wide open, revealing his massive muscular chest.</p><p>Reaper gives a low growl. Impatience appears to win out over further drama, because the rest of his layers simply turn to smoke and dissipate, except the mask, which Akande grabs a hold of by the chin. He’s about to rip it off when black claws—natural ones, not like the steel-tipped claws on the gloves that form part of the Reaper’s outfit—grab his hand, sharp and prickly, although not breaking skin.</p><p>Reaper always hesitates here, right in this moment, even at his most eager and needy. It’s the human part that’s still in him, the man that probably hates the monster he’s become. Even immediately after a fresh feeding, when Reaper looks the most human because his nanites are satisfied, when his skin is the natural bronze-brown that it should be instead of the pasty grey-white that it becomes when the nanites are hungry… even now Reaper hesitates.</p><p>Akande gives him a few seconds to back out of this completely. If Reaper wants to leave, at any moment, he can. This is the understanding they have. But he’s not surprised when Reaper’s claws lower instead, freeing Akande’s hand. With a smile, Akande pulls the mask off and tosses it aside.</p><p>His dark eyes take in the sight before him appreciatively. The broad shoulders, the muscular chest full of crags and defining lines, the way the outline of Reaper’s body narrows down to that impossible waist, and then curves back to those impressive hips and incredible thighs. Hourglass curves on a large and powerful man. Perfectly-trimmed salt and pepper beard frame a strong chin and high cheekbones. There’s nothing particularly inhuman about Reaper now, but that was because of the recent feeding. Akande has seen him when he’s hungry; it’s not just his skin taking on that pasty color. Sometimes his nanites seem to forget what a human looks like, and he ends up with extra eyes and strange shadowy limbs, and dark patches all over his body. Even now, the long curled locks end in wispy trails of black smoke. His eyes are glowing bright red still.</p><p>Akande is tenting his pants now, and Reaper’s eyes travel down his broad chest and lower, taking note. Some of the tension drains from the wraith’s shoulders, as Akande makes a <em>come here</em> motion with his fingers.</p><p>Reaper gives a soft growl, moving towards him with grace and speed of an eager predator. His mouth opens, showing off unnaturally sharp and perfectly white teeth, some of them a bit bigger than they ought to be. Discomfort and hang-ups shaken off, Reaper goes for the other man’s shoulder. Akande doesn’t stop him, even as those sharp teeth sink into his skin. He hisses as pain blossoms from the new wound, crimson oozing slowly, throbbing delightfully. Reaper’s hands are pushing Akande’s shirt all the way off now, and then reaching eagerly for the belt of his pants.</p><p>Akande’s big hand slides through the thick waves of dark hair, fingers massaging the scalp, until he suddenly tightens his grip. It’s a signal for Reaper to lift his teeth from the throbbing wound, and the wraith is pulled back by his hair, with an accompanying snarl. Akande chuckles, swinging him somewhat roughly towards the nearby bed.</p><p>“Oh, my impatient Gabriel,” he says softly. He lets go of the wraith’s hair and shoves him back, so that he ends up sprawled on the bed. “You will get what you need. I promise. But it will be when I am ready to give it to you.”</p><p>Reaper—no, Gabriel, now—bares his blood-stained teeth at him, but despite the impatient growl, he doesn’t move from the bed. He’s breathing heavily, chest rising and falling rapidly, hands on the bed and propping himself up into a half-sitting position, one knee up and bent. He’s beautiful and powerful and a lesser man would perhaps find him daunting to behold. His size and musculature and vaguely monstrous features would be enough, but there’s also that which draws Akande’s admiring gaze now, even as his hands slowly and teasingly reach for the button of his pants, taking his time undoing it. Akande’s focus is on the myriad of scars and old wounds all over Gabriel’s body. A historical treasure trove of this man’s incredible story, of a lifetime spent fighting and surviving. A man so stubborn and willful that not even death could keep him down.</p><p>Gabriel Reyes embodies everything Akande believes in. He has seen enough adversity for three lifetimes, and yet he refuses to die. He is magnificent.<br/>
<br/>
Akande’s zipper slides down, and he can’t help but chuckle, because Gabriel’s red eyes are glued to where the darker man’s fingers are slowly working his pants off. So eager. So hungry. This little striptease is absolute torture, Akande knows. And so very enjoyable for them both. When his pants finally slide off, he stands with his arms across his muscular chest, feet shoulder-width apart, and his hard cock standing proudly, the only sign that this entire evening has affected him more than he lets on otherwise. Gabriel licks his lips, red eyes flickering up to his face, awaiting instructions.</p><p>Akande grabs a bottle from the nearby nightstand and moves closer. Without having to be asked, Gabriel spreads his knees. His cock is not just hard, it’s leaking, belying just how eager and desperate he is. This pleases Akande to no end. He pours cool lubricant onto his left hand, rubbing his fingers together to warm it up. He wraps his other large hand around the ruddy head of Gabriel’s cock. Despite it being the cooler of the two hands, the wraith whimpers softly and pumps his hips, pushing his cock shamelessly against Akande’s hand, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. Akande doesn’t stop him, smiling instead and letting him pleasure himself.</p><p>“You did well tonight, Gabriel,” he murmurs. His lubricated thumb teasingly circles the other man’s eager hole before pressing lightly against it, although not yet penetrating. He earns a little groan and a more insistent push into the hand wrapped around the cock.</p><p>“Akande, please,” Gabriel murmurs, speaking for the first time since the limo ride to the hotel. His voice is much smoother and warmer than the Reaper’s normal guttural voice, which is distorted by his mask.</p><p>Akande smirks, circling the other man’s eager hole once more. “Please what, my Gabriel?” He just gets another needy whine in response, and yet another push against his prosthetic hand. Without warning, he thrusts his index finger into Gabriel, who gives a startled gasp at the sudden invasion. “Is this what you want?” His finger curls inside the other man’s hot body, brushing teasingly against the prostate.</p><p>Gabriel moans in response, even as his cock lets loose more pre-cum. “Please!” he says more insistently.</p><p>“Please… <em>what</em>?” Akande growls back.</p><p>“<em>More,</em>” Gabriel rasps, for a moment sounding more like his Reaper persona. His hips buck involuntarily as Akande slides a second finger into him. He tosses his head, long hair flying. His chest is glistening bronze with sweat, and he’s more insistently trying to fuck into Akande’s hand, so the darker man takes it away, with much whining protest as a result.</p><p>“It always amazes me,” Akande says conversationally, even as he slides his fingers deeper, curling them, teasing his prostate, making the other man practically writhe, “how needy you get after a fight, Gabriel. It’s rather endearing, really.” He scissors his fingers, working the other man open.</p><p>Gabriel straightens a bit, red eyes narrowed now at him. “It’s the feeding, not the fight. I’m not the one who gets a hardon while punching people in the face,” he growls.</p><p>Akande laughs, a deep and warm sound. “Fair enough,” he says. His fingers slide out entirely from the other man. He sobers, and when next he speaks, his voice is that of a man accustomed to having his orders following. “On your knees, Reyes.”</p><p>“Who’s needy now?” Gabriel says with a smirk. But despite the backtalk, he’s fast and graceful as he flips himself over, presenting his rather spectacular ass, cock hanging heavily between sweaty thighs.</p><p>Akande has slathered more lubricant over his cock, and he joins Gabriel on the bed, kneeling behind him, pressing the head teasingly against Gabriel’s hole, but not penetrating yet. “I could stop,” Akande replies calmly. “If you want to keep talking shit.”</p><p>Gabriel looks over his shoulder, red eyes glowing, and responds with a challenging growl.</p><p>Akande grins and, again without warning, penetrates the other man. Except he’s not a small man by any means, and Gabriel whines as he’s impaled, going tense briefly before making a visible effort to relax to get used to the burn and stretch. Akande slides deep into his tight heat, himself growling in pleasure as he fully sheathes himself in the other man’s body. He pauses, letting Gabriel not only get used to him, but giving him plenty of opportunity to disengage. Gabriel can wraith away at any time and they both know it. And yet, he does not.</p><p>Instead, he meets Akande’s steady rhythmic stroking with eagerness, even complaining once or twice at the slower pace. The large man just laughs. For all the grumbling, Gabriel doesn’t want it to end any faster than Akande does. He’s just a whiny brat of a bottom. It’s endearing.</p><p>Soon enough, he has nothing to complain about, because Akande’s rhythm has increased, and he’s all but slamming into Gabriel’s welcoming body, eliciting growls and cries of “More!”, while Akande is practically panting as the heat gathers low in his belly.</p><p>By all that was holy, Gabriel Reyes is a <em>beautiful</em> and respectable man, and being given permission to rail him like this is nothing short of a gift. Despite Akande’s own urgency, he clamps down on his own need, very much focused on the writhing body beneath him, intent on giving pleasure to his partner first.</p><p>At one point Gabriel tosses his head, and the lush salt and pepper hair is simply too much to ignore. Akande’s fingers wrap themselves in those curls, even as Akande adjusts his body to change the angle of penetration. When next he rams deep into Gabriel, his fingers tighten, pulling the other man’s head back, so that Akande can see the way his lips form an O as Akande’s cock brushes against his prostate before being buried deep. The sounds Gabriel makes as he’s well and truly fucked are nothing short of heavenly. Growls and curses interspersed with whining and begging. It’s music to Akande’s ears.</p><p>When the orgasm hits, Gabriel’s entire body goes tense and suddenly still, toes curling and black claws buried deep in the mattress. Then his insides spasm around Akande’s cock, hips pumping uncontrollably as his cock spurts cum over the sheets, his voice one long resounding moan. Akande goes still, grinning as he takes in the sight of Gabriel shattering before his eyes. He pets gently at the long hair, making soothing little noises as the other man slowly comes back down from orbit.</p><p>Gabriel is almost boneless by then, and Akande rolls his hips slowly, reminding him that it isn’t over yet. The other man shudders as Akande resumes stroking into him. Gabriel is always so sensitive after an orgasm, and yet he doesn’t try to shake Akande off. He’s pliant as Akande wraps his huge arms under and around Gabriel’s hips, almost lifting his bottom half entirely off the bed as their brutal rhythm is resumed. Gabriel writhes beneath him, whimpering but more than willing to being used this way.</p><p>“Come for me,” Gabriel groans. “Come on, Akande… fucking use me! Come all over me…”</p><p>The dirty talk makes Akande growl. He strokes once, twice, three times, as deep into the other man as possible, before he suddenly pulls out and shudders, spewing hot cum over Gabriel’s graceful back and ass. He kneels there for several long moments, chest heaving, soaking in the euphoric cloud.</p><p>It’s Gabriel’s laugh that brings him back down to earth. It’s a warm and deep reverberating sound. “It’s about time,” he says, now fully collapsed on the bed. He peers over his shoulder at Akande, coyly. His eyes aren’t red anymore; they are caramel-brown and so much softer. And his black claws have turned back into normal human fingers.</p><p>“You fucking Americans are so impatient. This is why you are an empire in decline,” Akande replies. He slaps a large hand over the other man’s ass, making him twitch. “Everything in its time, my Gabriel.”</p><p>Gabriel snorts. “Post-coital socioeconomic commentary is not fucking allowed. Not unless there’s alcohol involved. A lot of it. <em>And</em> I’ll need a fucking cigarette.”</p><p>“Well, I do intend to order room service.” Akande chuckles when Gabriel rolls his eyes. He slides off the bed and reaches for the items he’d discarded on the nightstand earlier, and tosses Jasper’s carton of cigarettes and lighter onto the bed in front of the other man. “There you go.”</p><p>Gabriel glares at him, but he takes the box and lighter and sits up. “This is <em>not</em> permission to go on a rant about your stupid ‘adversity makes us stronger’ philosophy.”</p><p>“Mmm-hmm. What do you want from room service?”</p><p>“The fruitiest, girliest fucking rum-based drink they have. Like four of them. And they better have those tiny umbrellas. I’m going to take a bath in that fancy-ass garden tub.”</p><p>“You do that,” Akande says, chuckling. He’s draped himself over the ridiculous pile of pillows on the massive bed, leaning back with his hands behind his bald head, lounging rather like a desert prince. He watches Gabriel’s curvaceous back—still covered in Akande’s cum—as the other man walks away and disappears into the bathroom.</p><p>Akande can’t help but smirk.  </p><p>This isn’t love. Love is for children. This is a mutually beneficial partnership. Reaper is an agent Akande can count on and who doesn’t shy away from getting his hands dirty. He’s dependable, powerful, and despite his sneering about Akande’s personal philosophy, their goals appear to be congruent, at least for the time being. Akande has no illusions on what would happen if Reaper should turn on him. It would be a shame, to be sure, because they <em>are</em> so good together, in battle and in bed. One of them will fall if it comes to that, and while Akande has contingency plans for dealing with a traitorous Reaper, there’s a solid chance that it might mean Akande’s end as well.</p><p>Such is the way of things when one courts death, he muses.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not exactly my deepest work. Or my best, imo, but I am coming out of a dryspell/writer's block, AND I only decided to participate in AkanDay like 4 days before the due date. It is also unbetaed. </p><p>*salutes*</p></blockquote></div></div>
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